The Lady Of The Loch
by CeffylGwyn
Summary: "Though lovers be lost, love shall not; And death shall have no dominion." ― Dylan Thomas. It is sometimes a chance encounter that makes the greatest impression on a person. One life altering moment perfectly placed in time, that changes everything and yet, nothing. ONE-SHOT *COMPLETE*


**I would suggest listening to 'The Bonnie Banks of Loch Lomond' a traditional Scottish song whilst reading this for 'the full effect'.**

_~~ By yon bonnie banks and by yon bonnie braes,_

_Where the sun shines bright on Loch Lomon'._

_Where me and my true love will never meet again,_

_On the bonnie, bonnie banks o' Loch Lomon'. ~_

* * *

Archibald Fitzwilliam Kennedy hefted his satchel-bag further over his shoulder and wiped a hand over his heavily perspiring brow; the rays of the afternoon sun beating down on him. Why this place had to be so damned hilly he could never fathom. Every time he came to see his favourite aunt, who lived in Luss, (a tiny fishing village off the shore of Loch Lomond) he nearly expired on the journey. No carriages went from Balloch, up to the town, and hence, he had to walk.

It was a downright tiresome journey; one he only made perhaps once every two years, but it was made bearable by the look of downright joy on his favourite aunt's face. She had never had children, instead choosing to live alone alongside the Loch that had always been her home; and hence she treated him like the son she had never had. Whenever he had leave, and could afford to make the journey, he came to see her.

It was a pretty place, that he could not deny. With the woods that whispered quiet secrets as you walked through them, and the smell of wind over water; the clean smell of freshwater, untainted by the salt of the sea. When he was younger, he had envisioned a life here, amongst all the greens and blues of the land and water. But that was before the Navy.

Clouds, dark and heavy, began to roll over the sky; threatening to unleash the rain they held, and Archie sighed. The lands of the Loch were more capricious than the sea. A fact he always found ironic. Shifting his bag over his shoulder, he doggedly continued onwards, casting furtive glances up at the ever-darkening sky.

* * *

_~ O ye'll tak' the high road and I'll tak' the low road,_

_An' I'll be in Scotland afore ye;_

_For me and me true love will never meet again_

_On the bonnie, bonnie banks o' Loch Lomon'. ~_

* * *

It was the dull clop of giant hooves ahead that made him look up from where he was concentrating on maintaining his footing on the rough ground. A great Clydesdale ambled along the path ahead of him, huffing softly as if putting one hoof in front of the other was too great an effort. _I hear you my friend,_ he laughed softly to himself. He shared the horse's sentiments exactly.

The Clydesdale pricked it's ears back at him when it heard his footsteps grow closer, but continued to be led along by it's master...or, in this case, mistress. Archie's interest was momentarily piqued as he studied her figure walking not far ahead of him (wasn't a bad view at all). She was wearing a red, plaid, _arisaid_ (a part of traditional Highland dress, he had come to realise after visiting Scotland for a number of years) about her shoulders, folding down into the blue of her skirt. The red of the cloth matched the colour of her hair, currently tied in a knot at the nape of her neck.

Almost as if she sensed someone watching her, the girl; no; woman turned and looked back at him, meeting curious blue eyes with worried brown. Archie suddenly realised the direction of her misgivings; a young woman, alone on a deserted road with a man dressed in military garb coming up quietly behind her, and he cursed his stupidity.

"Archie Kennedy; Miss at you're service," he said awkwardly, tipping his hat to her and walking far enough away that she would know he meant no harm. By the Lord above she was a pretty thing. Funnily enough, it didn't take much for him to coax her into talking to him (as he discovered he was want to do). She chatted to him about all and everything he could possibly think of and more; amazing him with the bright glow of life she cast about her, warding away the dark clouds.

He liked to think of himself as a humorous man, but no-one had ever had cause to make him laugh as much as she did - it was as if with every phrase, she tried to draw a smile from his face. With a sudden clap of thunder, the forgotten clouds above their heads burst forth with rain, and the Clydesdale reared in fright, galloping along the road ahead.

Everything after that happened in a blur. The girl shrieked and began to chase after her horse, Archie following close at her heels. She had not got ten paces when she tripped on something and fell, landing face-first (in a rather undignified manner) in a large puddle. Horrified, he tried to help her up as the rain continued to beat down around them, but instead of assisting, he himself fell flat on his back (so much for sea-legs - he couldn't even stand straight in a puddle!).

When they finally managed to struggle to their feet, they took one look at the other and burst out laughing. It was entirely unseemly and most unorthodox; but Archie found himself entirely pleased with having met her here, in this manner. She was not a tight-laced woman of English society, but a woman of the earth and Loch. She knew how to laugh, and perhaps that was what drew him to her.

Together, ducking under coat and arisaid, they raced as fast as possible towards the town of Luss. It was not a mile out of town that they found the Clydesdale absently chomping on grass beside a copse of trees. She scolded him with a 'You silly boy Harold' when they caught up to him and it was only when they reached the quiet village and she made to leave for her home, that he realised he had forgot to ask her the most important

"I believe I did not have the pleasure of discovering your name Miss." Archie said with his most charming smile, "Perhaps you could disclose it to me?"

She cocked her head to the side, as if considering him, "Meh name's Jean MacBride Sir." she said with a twinkle in her eye and an impish grin as she turned back to her horse, "C'mon Harold, best nowt beh late home now eh boy?"

"Do you think I might call on you tomorrow Miss MacBride?" Archie inquired quickly, and without thought of propriety (the two of them standing drenched in the rain was not heard of in polite society) as she walked away.

"If yeh can find where I live, then yeh most welcome teh call on me Mr Kennedy." Jean called over her shoulder as she continued on, leaving him standing there with an idiotic grin on his face. Archie did what any self respecting man with a mind to court a woman would do and wheedled the information out of his aunt. So call on her he did, every day for the three weeks he was in Luss, and she remained in his thoughts for some time after, his Lady of the Loch.

* * *

_~ 'Twas there that we parted in yon shady glen,_

_On the steep, steep side o' Ben Lomon',_

_Where in purple hue the Hieland hills we view,_

_An' the moon comin' out in the gloamin'. ~_

* * *

_"Yeh will com' back? Won' yeh?"_

_"Yes, I will come back."_

Acting Lieutenant Kennedy sighed as he went about the tasks aboard ship. It was good to see Horatio - the man was his greatest and best friend after all; and the ship at sea offered a sense of familiarity that provided some comfort. But it was not quite the home he had become used to any more. It was not the Loch, and that posed, for the first time, since events he'd rather forget - a dissatisfaction with his place aboard ship. It was a startling thought, that a few days and a single person could evoke the land-lust that lay buried deep within him.

As the days aboard grew longer, memories ashore faded into just that - distant memories. Once again, the Navy was all-consuming, and Archie let it wash him away from his thoughts.

* * *

_~ O ye'll tak' the high road and I'll tak the low road,_

_An' I'll be in Scotland afore ye;_

_For me and me true love will never meet again_

_On the bonnie, bonnie banks o' Loch Lomon'. ~_

* * *

Archie watched her run through the trees, dark red hair flying in tangles about her face as she turned and smiled back at him. Her face bright with laughter. Oh how he loved to make her laugh, loved to watch her laugh. The sunlight flickered on her hair as he ran after her, making it shine and glow, like she was some heathen goddess of old. She was so beautiful.

The cries of the ship woke him and once more, Archie longed for sleep. It was a hell he had created for himself here. He had visited his Jean before coming to the HMS Renown, and the month he spent by the Loch with her had enlivened him. It was then that Archie had come to the conclusion that the next time he visited the Loch, he would ask her the question that had been on his mind for month. In retrospect, his decision to return to the sea had been entirely for Horatio (who needed him, more than the other man could ever admit), and because he knew no other life. He almost wished he had chosen to stay ashore and quit the Navy like he secretly desired.

Time aboard the Renown was increasingly becoming unbearable; Captain Sawyer was testing the very limits of his self control and good humor and he knew it would not be long before it all rose to the surface. Every night he looked forward to the escape of sleep, transported back to the dark waters of the Loch, where the memories of the past, and dreams of the future carried him onwards.

* * *

_~ The wee birdies sing and the wild flow'rs spring,_

_And in sunshine the waters are sleepin';_

_But the broken heart it kens nae second spring again,_

_Tho' the waefu' may cease frae their greetin' ~_

* * *

There is a coldness that comes, when one realises they are about to die. Archie had fought it at first, fought it as hard as he could although deep in his heart, he knew it to be futile. The wound was too great, and they were all walking dead men anyway, if the current state of the trial was anything to go by.

It was with a whispered _forgive me_ that he hobbled into the courtroom; the wound in his side pulsing with his heart as he informed the court it was he who had pushed Sawyer; he who had caused him to fall. Far better for one to die - one who was already dying, than all four. _Forgive me my love,_ he thought tiredly as he lay in the hospital bed, the inky blackness of death pulling at his consciousness. Hornblower came and asked him why he had done it and as they talked, he felt himself slipping away. A funny feeling, to be slipping away from yourself.

Dimly, as the world greyed about the edges, he realised, he had never told his best friend about her, his woman of the Loch. Jean MacBride. Horatio would not understand, he lived and breathed the sea. He had asked him once if he had a sweetheart in England, the answer was still the same, but in a different way. Somehow his mind, beginning to grow fuzzy, didn't find that important anymore. As he sucked in his last breath, Archie thought of her. Brown eyes, red hair, his woman of the Loch. He never got to tell her...never got to ask her, his woman of the Loch.

His heart was not in England, for it was with a fiery red haired woman, buried alongside the bonnie banks of Loch Lomond.

* * *

_~ O ye'll tak' the high road and I'll tak the low road,_

_An' I'll be in Scotland afore ye;_

_For me and me true love will never meet again_

_On the bonnie, bonnie banks o' Loch Lomon'.~~_

* * *

**A/N: Ok, yes, I'm supposed to be writing other things (which I am currently very much behind on), but this came about all because of _MissLarkRiser1894 _(yes, point the finger, it's all her fault! :P) who renewed my interest in this series. So thank you my friend, this short story is dedicated to you. I enjoyed this little venture muchly.**

**I've always had a soft spot for Archie, and he really deserved more than he got. 'Why _Fitzwilliam_ as his middle-name?' you may ask, well quite simply, because I thought the name suited, and because it carried connotations of my beloved Mr Darcy. The song 'Bonnie Banks of Loch Lomond' is a traditional Scottish song which was written in 1841. (Yes, this part of Hornblower is set in the late-early 1700's-1800's so just allow a bit of creative license here). I was listening to 'I Giorni' by Ludovico Einaudi when I wrote this. I would also suggest listening to 'The Sleepless Sailor' by Kate Rushby; it suits Archie perfectly in my opinion :)**

**I realise this probably won't get all that many reviews as the _Hornblower_ fandom is fairly old, but if you have a chance please review! It'd make my day :) **


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